


Dancing through the ages

by Doublematch



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2020-11-08 10:47:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20834198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doublematch/pseuds/Doublematch
Summary: How many angels can dance on a pinhead?Many said that, as long as the dance is a gavotte, the answer is a straightforward one. They are wrong.Not on the numbers, but on the dances.As for demons, if you think about good dancing, the answer is still one.Just remember, Crowley's plans always backfire.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Katzedecimal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katzedecimal/gifts), [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).

> I was writing this for the Good Omens Big Bang, but life got between me and my writing.
> 
> It started as a silly idea, but took a different turn. I suppose silliness will be involved.

At first, before Eden, before Time, before the Fall, there was music. Angelic choirs singing the majesty of Her Creation.  
Crawley could not remember much of his times in Heaven, just hanging the stars and shaping constellations surrounded by the constant melody, barely heard in the distance. Then he fell, and Hell had no music of his own. The demons composed rhythms of their own, guided by the drumming and shuffling of their feet, to fill the silence.  
Eden was next, with nature always singing and chanting, Adam and Eve always taking rhythm with them, their heartbeats puncturing every action.  
Dance was still unknown to everyone.  
It was later, when humans started to populate Earth, that dance emerged.  
Hidden in the shadows outside a cave, he looks in awe at the first humans dancing to the fire light, following the beat of their hearts, the song of their breaths, the melody of the blood circling inside them without pause. Across the entrance, he spies the same expression on the angel’s face.  
Aziraphale, the Guardian of the Eastern Gate, looks at the dancers fondly.  
They had met more than a few times since the first storm and every time Crawley marvelled at the selfless love the Principality emanated. Not for the first time, he wonders if Aziraphale's voice had been between the ones who reached him in the depths of space, keeping him company. He would love for that to be true.  
But then something strange and unexpected pulled him out of his fantasies. The angel is breathing, chest rising in time with the steps taken inside the cave. It is in that moment that Crawley wills his heart to beat, makes the choice to breathe for the first time.  
As the air fills his lungs, he marvels at the song his vessel is composing. The constant drumming inside his chest.  
Singing is overrated, decides the demon. The true language of Creation is dance, and he will learn it and master it.  
"They are onto something, with this dance business," he dares to whisper to the angel.  
Aziraphale sighs, unwillingly, for the first time guided by instinct and not thought.  
"I wonder where all this will go."  
The angel unfurls his wings and leaves abruptly to check on other groups, leaving Crawley alone to envy the freedom of expression humans had while dancing became something different and primal.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, today I'll type the rest I have and post it whenever. 
> 
> It's almost done, so I hope to find the right words soon.
> 
> Thank you for coming with me on this journey.

Aziraphale, Principality, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, remembers fondly the time spent singing the glory of the Almighty before being sent to his assigned work. 

The Creation sang too, he discovered, a different music, a different rhythm, so much more appealing to him. 

It was a pity his brethren didn't understand the hypnotic fascination of the wind rustling through the foliage or, later on, of the fire happily burning.  
Now, he watches while humans try something new.

Dancing. 

No music is produced, and they are following the sound of the fire and the beat of their hearts, composing a prayer of their own. He feels blessed for the gift of withstanding this special moment, but something was amiss, and it was not the fact that near him there was a demon.  
Aside the Temptation in the Garden, Crawley proved to be innocuous, even funny sometimes. What's more, he seemed to be the only other one to like the melody Earth created, to find this new world special. 

He understood what was missing: he wanted to feel the same beat the humans did. He willed a heartbeat, and the dance became easier to follow.  
Crawley talking startled him, and his new heart skipped a beat. 

He leaves without a word. At the time, not so many humans populated Earth and bumping into Crawley was a common occurrence. They will find each other soon, and his fresh treacherous heart beats a faster rhythm at the thought. But the constant melody now inside him is a gift too big to go back to the silence.  
He will keep this heart, his vessel song will become his constant chanting for giving thanks, both different and the same as when he sang in the angelic choirs. 

He will honor this vessel She granted him letting it chant the rhythm of life in all his forms.


	3. Chapter 3

As civilization grew, for Crawley (now Crowley), dancing became a political move, a way to easily gain access to whomever held the power.

Presenting as a male or, lately, a female skilled dancer, he could be found in almost every court.But he didn’t care for that. More rewarding was join the various female dancers, usually inebriated, that celebrated the circle of life.  
Letting her hair loose, feeling the excitement running wild just under the skin, Crowely let her body compose a plea to someone who will not listen to it, to someone who will not know, not ever, that every single movement was intended for him.

In every court important enough in human history, another figure could be always found.

A white haired men, usually shifting through the shadows near the most important people. He will never be a dancer from nowhere, and usually all supposed him related to someone else.

Aziraphale loathed assignments where he had to check on politics, but that boring work had two major bonuses. First, he gets to taste the finest foods; faithful to his decision, Aziraphale indulged his vessel’s needs. The other bonus was more elusive: if the timing was right, he could spy a red haired dancer performs; too bad the dancer will always be successful in his intent, and leave with his designated mark.

Aziraphale kept telling himself that keeping an eye on the demon was just part of his job, but the moves he ( or sometimes a lustful she) showed with ease were enthralling.

Oh, sure, he enjoyed watching every dancer, but Crowley was special.

Many times Aziraphale would hide in woods, or behind pillers, using frivoulous miracles to hide from view, while wild women danced past him delirious with life, hoping to spot the telltale red. She (for Crowley would always be she, on those occasions) would usually be in the center of the mob, swirling with passion, her back arching to a song only she could follow.

Aziraphale always felt a pang of envy for the way Crowley mastered dancing. The total control over the onlooker he could demand.  
The angel had tried many times times to dance, but his vessel would not cooperate. So he watched, while his vessel longed for Crowley, for joining the demon in dance and sing praises to the Almighty in the only way he still hadn't try.


	4. Chapter 4

Crowley didn’t stop himself to learn dances created by humans: fuelled by his imagination, he composed motions of his own.  
If you could look closely at their origin, every dance who sends a shiver of lust through the onlookers spine would seem to have generated around some mysterious dancer with hair as fire.

Take a look at the dance of the Seven Veils.The thrill of discovering something new at every turn, the passion building with every move, the naked truth being revealed bit by bit.  
She fantasized of doing it for one spectator only, hidden in a dark corner as his usual.  
Yes, she knew that Aziraphale snooped on her dancing from time to time, and she was sure that the angel was only checking her doing, keeping her from spreading temptation. He was becoming a temptation of his own, so near and yet so untouchable just as the tree was.

When Crowley was sent to tamper with Salome, he (she) teached the slithering dance to the young.  
Looking at the commendation in his hand for securing the head of the Baptist, he felt sick. Humans always did his work for him.

Vengeance was not the purpose of his dance, nor spreading lust. He danced to get lost in the fantasy of strong hands around him.For he was sure, Aziraphale’s hands had to be strong and demanding, even if able to be soft and gentle. The angel, after all, was a Principality, a warrior hiding behind a kind smile.  
Crowley rarely stopped to talk to him, when they crossed paths, but never failed to register his movements, to take notice of how his gaze lingered. He would like so much to dance with Aziraphale, for Aziraphale, but that was just a hopeless child of his imagination.  
After the Golgota, she was sent to the barbaric regions of Gaule, loosing sight of her favorite enemy.  
Dancing there didn’t hold the same emotion.

In Rome, Aziraphale was grumpy.  
He spent the last years around the Emperors courts, and not once he spotted his favorite dancer.  
Not that Caligula, now, was in need of a demon to find devious ideas.

He recognized a voice, and his heart changes rhythm as he always did when Crowley was near. It was that beat change to make him fumble while greeting the demon.  
He seemed so out of place, his clothes and accessories not ones you usually would see around the city, and he was quite evidently in a foul mood.

“What else would I be? An aardvark?”

Social interaction is a dance on his own, and Aziraphale had trouble following this steps too.  
He missed the sight of the demon, and put a foot in a wrong place, tripping.

“May I tempt you…”

_Oh, good Lord, discorporate me on the spot please._

Luckily, Crowley didn’t take offence at his constant fumbles, and accepted the invite with a smile.  
He had a quick temptation to work out after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry , life as been a bit of a mess.  
I am trying to get me up to speed again.
> 
> This work is now dedicated to Katzedecimal, who loves dancing and helped me out a lot.  
And to Nothingsospecial, because he's always there to pick up my pieces when I fall.
> 
> Love ya all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Remember that kudos and comments are always appreciated.
> 
> Stop by on Tumblr, doublematch evern there.


End file.
